The Singing Caravan: A Sufi TaleVansittart, Robert Gilbert Vansittart, Baron
Religion
The Singing Caravan: A Sufi Tale
Vansittart, Robert Gilbert Vansittart, Baron
Poetry
_Briar and bramble,
Don't be so dense.
You scratch and you scramble
Like things without sense.
Why grudge me a ramble?
You can't want my hose,
White-coated bramble,
Pink briar-rose._
_Bramble and briar,
Leave me alone.
Cling to the friar,
Make him your own.
Kiss him, the liar
Who brought us all here,
Gentle sweet-briar,
Bramble my dear._
Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the
Hungarian plain,
And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and
grain,
Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave
Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the
Save
With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like
these;
For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.
Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I
blushed
To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they
yelled
"Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of
Gaul
Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.
Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told
The zeal that made the first crusade, well--history is eaten cold.
My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut
His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance--the
slut.
We called her secretly The Burr--whereof was plenty in our beds--
For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:
_I waited, and the hours were loth to close.
They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight
Between the shadows that all substance throws
As bridges for its passage to the night._
_You never came. Life dozes at the touch
Of those not wholly resolute to live,
Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch
To take the only thing she has to give._
Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled
With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled
Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled
With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west
untilled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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